He slid the cover all the way open. Lord and Lady Elmont were divesting each other’s garments, hands moving feverishly.
“Open your window and have a look,” he encouraged.
With a questioning glance in his direction, she did as he bade, leaning forward in her chair and sliding the gilt covering to the side. “Oh my,” she murmured. “Is that… Are they…”
His lips twitched. “Yes, it is, and yes, they are. Too much already, minx? We can close the viewing holes, and I’ll find a maid to help you pack your valises.”
“No,” she denied loudly.
Too loudly.
The couple on the other side of the small viewing hole appeared to hear her, ending their kiss as Lady Elmont briefly cast a look in their direction.
“Quiet,” he reminded Rhiannon. “If you’re too loud, this will be over before it’s begun, and I promised you an education.”
The dim light in the observation room emerging from a single low sconce ensured that the players in the room next door couldn’t see who was watching, which was part of the enjoyment for them. Aubrey hadn’t told them which members of the party would be in the observation room.
Rhiannon gave him a mutinous glare before turning her attention back to the viewing window. He didn’t bother to turn his gaze to what was unfolding within the bedchamber. Viewing her reaction was far more intoxicating at the moment.
Her lips were parted, her creamy neck craned as she leaned forward in her seat. He wondered if her nipples were hard. If her cunny was slick and wet with anticipation. For a wild moment, he thought about lowering himself before her on the Axminster, lifting her skirts, and burying his face between her legs. He could pleasure her while she watched, know the delirious joy of her coming on his tongue.
Fuck.
He had to stop thinking about her this way.
Aubrey shifted in his seat, trying to ease the pressure of his trousers on his rampant cockstand. Rhiannon cast a curious look in his direction.
“Are you not going to watch?” she asked softly.
He clenched his jaw to stave off another agonizing rush of lust. “Iamwatching.”
And that was entirely the problem.
It wasimpossible not to be moved by the sight of Richford sprawled with casual elegance in his seat, his long legs before him, his forearms resting on the chair in an indolent pose. Rhiannon was all too aware of his assessing emerald gaze on her. He was watching, like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for a reaction.
He wasn’t going to get one.
It was more than apparent that he’d brought her to the viewing room so he could shock her into leaving. But if he thought that merely watching a couple ardently kiss was going to send her meekly back to London, he was wrong.
They stared at each other for a heated moment, and then he averted his gaze to the viewing window before him as dispassionately as if he were regarding his dinner plate. It would seem that nothing could move the Duke of Richford, least of all her.
Disappointment sliced through Rhiannon. Why couldn’t he look at her and see that she was a woman, with a woman’s desires? Why did he insist upon treating her as if she were a naïve girl who had wandered into the dining room at an inopportune time, interrupting the adult conversation?
In the room next door, the couple had progressed beyond kissing. The gentleman had his coat off and was working at the closures on the woman’s bodice, while her fingers flew over the buttons on his waistcoat. They managed all this while their mouths remained pressed together in a series of carnal kisses that was equally revealing. It was almost as if the two intentionally shifted so that the viewing room had a better vantage point as their tongues tangled.
Despite her determination to remain unmoved, Rhiannon slid forward on her seat, holding her breath as she watched the pair slipping out of their clothing. The man was in shirtsleeves now, and the woman’s bodice was gone, along with her overskirt. The woman then spun about, presenting her back to the man so that he could untie her corset laces. A coquettish smile played about her lips as she faced the observation windows.
“Do they know we’re watching?” Rhiannon asked quietly.
“They know someone is watching,” Richford said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble. “But not who.”
In the bedchamber beyond, the woman’s corset slackened, giving more room to her bountiful breasts. Good heavens, they truly meant to disrobe entirely, didn’t they? Rhiannon was beginning to feel faint. They were a handsome couple, the man dark-haired with shots of silver at his temples, the woman red-haired and voluptuous. They kept their masks in place, which Rhiannon found odd.
“Don’t they want to know?” she queried, trying to distract herself.
Anticipation had begun to unfurl within her, hot and potent. A new feeling started in the very center of her, a blossoming ache that wasn’t entirely unfamiliar.
“Not knowing is part of the thrill,” he told her.
